


Lasagna as an Expression of Love

by kingstoken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingstoken/pseuds/kingstoken
Summary: “Is this like the burger, or the pizza, or the tacos, or the falafel-”  Adam laughed.“Yes, it's exactly like that, food isn't always about nutrition, it's about the experience, the comfort, the memories”
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38
Collections: Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	Lasagna as an Expression of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roguefaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguefaerie/gifts).



Adam walked out of the restaurant's back door into a back alley covered in freshly covered snow, fat, fluffy snowflakes continued to fall from the sky. He turned around to look at the older, dark haired, woman standing in the doorway.

“Are you sure you don't want me to stick around while you lock up, Marie?”

“That's okay, Adam. My hubby should be along any minute now, and his monster of a truck has 4-wheel drive. Have a good night.”

“You too” said Adam, as he watched her close and lock the door. Adam took a bracing breath of wintry air, then started to walk towards the alley's entrance, the snow crunching under his feet. Michael appeared beside him in his mind's eye.

“There is no one in the general vicinity, I could fly us home now” said Michael. Home was a dinky bachelor apartment above his landlord's garage. About eight weeks ago, when the seasons had started to change, Adam had been craving some winter scenery, so Michael had flown them to this little mountain town. They hadn't been here very long when Adam had noticed a help wanted sign posted in the window of Mountainside Restaurant, when he inquired about it, the restaurant's manager, Marie, hadn't been too phased by Adam's lack of work experience, being in a ski resort town she was used to transient workers who came and went with the skiing season. So, Adam became a bus boy and dishwasher, Marie introduced him to his landlord, Ralph, who charged him way too much, for what was essentially one large room with a bathroom and a kitchenette, but he was willing to rent to Adam based on Marie's recommendation alone, which made things considerably easier on Adam. Michael indulged him in this, even though Adam was pretty sure this little life Adam had built must seem insignificant to an archangel.

“It's alright, Michael, I'd like to walk” he looked up at the at the softly falling snow “It's beautiful isn't?”

“It is crystallized water forming in an infinite number of geometric shapes, although I suppose that the concept can be considered beautiful, and the white is aesthetically pleasing to the eye" said Michael. Adam smiled at him.

“You know what? When we get home I'm going to make us some old fashioned hot cocoa, and we're going to cuddle under blankets.”

“You are aware that my grace maintains your body temperature perfectly, and provides all the sustenance you require.”

“I know, but it's not about that.”

“Is this like the burger, or the pizza, or the tacos, or the falafel-” Adam laughed.

“Yes, it's exactly like that, food isn't always about nutrition, it's about the experience, the comfort, the memories”

“Memories?”

“Yeah, like my mom for example, she made the absolute best lasagna, she couldn't make it very often, because of how often she worked, but when she did, hmm, you would not believe how good it was.” Adam thought for a moment, the smile slipping from his face “I wish I had gotten her to teach me how to make it, but I never thought about it at the time, I just thought she'd always be there to make it for me.” Michael didn't say anything, didn't offer empty platitudes, but Adam felt something warm inside of him, Michael's grace, sensing his sadness and trying to provide solace. They walked the rest of the way home in silence.

When they reached the apartment Adam changed out of his wet clothes into a pair of flannel pyjamas. He made the cocoa in a pot on their tiny little stove, he poured it into a large chipped mug, and brought it over to the old TV table he used as a nightstand.

“Michael, can you do the thing?” The thing was where Michael made his apparition solid. Adam wasn't sure how it worked exactly, it was all an illusion, but it felt real, well almost real, it had been a little disconcerting the first time when he had put his head on Michael's chest and heard no heartbeat. Michael transformed himself and they crawled into bed together, Adam took a sip of his cocoa, before settling down under the covers. Michael wrapped his arms around Adam.

“Good night, kid.”

"Good night, halo."

Hours later, Adam was sleeping, or something close to it. Sometimes, like now, Adam's consciousness rested, while Michael controlled their body. Although, he was slowly coming to wakefulness, he was aware of noises coming from over by the kitchen area, which was strange, because Michael rarely bothered with that area of their apartment.

“Damn it to Hell.” This was even more foreign, Michael rarely swore, Adam decided he better go over to investigate, when he wandered over he saw Michael staring menacingly at a tray on top of the stove.

“You cooked?” asked Adam surprised.

“Yes, but it is not correct, I have ruined it.”

“I'm sure it's not as bad as all that” Adam glanced down at the tray “What is it?”

“Lasagna.”

“Oh” Adam fought the overwhelming urge to hug Michael “How about we switch out and I do a taste test.” Michael looked skeptical, but allowed Adam to take control of their body. Adam scooped out a generous amount onto a plate. He examined it, the lasagna, he could see that Michael had used the wrong kind of pasta, instead of large flat noodles he had used smaller, skinnier ones, most likely some sort of egg noodle. The cheese was a bit of a mystery, it most certainly was not the ricotta his mother used, and the sauce was watery. Adam grabbed a fork, and took a mouthful. It wasn't terrible, it was hot cheesy pasta, he'd had much worse, when he lived at his college dorm.

“Well?” asked Michael, almost nervously.

“It's definitely not lasagna.” Michael face fell.

“I knew it, I should not have tried cooking, I should have just flown to Italy and gotten you some there.”

“Hey, I still love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, because you made it.” Michael's face lit up with a smile, and Adam took another bite.


End file.
